


I'll Check In Tomorrow If I Don't Wake Up Dead

by Moron1



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moron1/pseuds/Moron1
Summary: In a slightly adjusted timeline, Miriam Lass and Abigail Hobbs are roommates. Or at least, they live together in Hannibal’s murder basement. Trust me, it’s not as cracky as it sounds.
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs & Miriam Lass, Abigail Hobbs/Marissa Schurr
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	I'll Check In Tomorrow If I Don't Wake Up Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a Hannibal crackfic where Miriam and Abigail are roommates in Hannibal’s murder basement. It’s… less of a crackfic now. But just so you know, the working title was "And They Were Roommates."

“This is for your own benefit, dear Abigail,” Hannibal whispered into her ear, her only good ear now, as he gathered her up and placed her down in the cage that he had in the middle of his basement. It was a wonder that someone hadn’t caught him yet when he had things like this in his house.

Abigail got up, swaying a bit from the blood loss. She glared at the door that Hannibal had retreated back out of. 

“Who are you?”

Abigail turned with a start, not expecting to hear another voice in the dark basement. “I- I’m Abigail. Who are you?”

She could barely see the outline of another girl in the dark room. She was sat on the ground, reclined against one of the walls of the plexiglass cage that they resided in.

“I’m… My name is Miriam Lass. Did the Chesapeake Ripper trap you down here too?” She asked, pushing herself up from the floor. 

“The- Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper?” Abigail blinked. It did make sense, she just hadn’t had the time to think about it.

“You didn’t figure it out? I figured that this was just what he did to anyone who caught on.”

“No, he just… I guess he had plans that involved faking my death and probably planting the evidence on someone else. At least, I assume that’s what he was planning to do with my ear. Not much to eat there,” Abigail laughed humorlessly.

“He… cut your ear off?” 

“Yeah,” Abigail paused, not really wanting to go into detail about what events had led up to that, if she could help it, “How long have you been down here?”

“I don’t know, what year is it?” She asked, and Abigail saw her silhouette shrug, “It’s hard to keep track down here. No windows. He moves mealtimes around so you can’t track those either.”

“It’s 2010.”

“Fuck!” Miriam slammed a hand down onto the wall, “It’s been two fucking  _ years _ . Goddamn it!”

Two years… And they were now both trapped here indefinitely. And Abigail had thought that her actual father was controlling.

Miriam sat back down, head in her hands. “So, what have I missed?” She asked, in an obvious attempt to try and seem upbeat. It was ruined by the fact that she sounded like she was crying, but Abigail didn’t fault her for that.

“Bush isn’t president anymore, it’s Barack Obama now. He’s the first African-American president. There’s a pandemic, it’s called Swine Flu? It seems like it’s winding down now, but it started last year. Not that many people have died, but a lot of people are sick...”

Abigail gave Miriam a general rundown of events until her shuddering breaths evened out and she began to relax. Eventually, she began to respond as well, giving her own opinions about Michael Jackson’s death and the newest Harry Potter movie.

It was nice talking to someone who didn’t know her through the lens of her father’s actions. Even if she was locked in the basement of another cannibalistic murderer of a father figure, it was nice to just be Abigail again.

“Will you- This is going to sound weird, but I’ve been here for two fucking years with only that bastard for company. And I’m pretty fucking touch starved by now… This is weird. Sorry.”

“No, no-” Abigail hurried to reassure her, sitting down next to Miriam and scooching in close, “We’re in this together now.”

It was awkward for a little bit, but both of them grew more relaxed as time went on, and not long after Miriam was curled into Abigail, one hand clutching her wrist as if she could disappear any moment.

“So how did Lecter get to you anyway?” Miriam asked, muffled slightly as her face was pressed into Abigail’s shoulder.

“It’s a long story. My father- was a serial killer. He killed girls that looked like me. Hannibal- Doctor Lecter, he was working with the FBI to take him down and-” Abigail broke off into choked sobs.

Miriam rubbed a hand over her back in repetitive circular motions, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Abigail nodded tearfully, using one hand to wipe her eyes. She ducked her head back down into Miriam’s hair.

The last time that she had contact with another girl like this was with Marissa. Marissa, who Hannibal had killed and framed Nick Boyle for her murder, who he manipulated her into killing. Just another game that he was playing.

The door opened, flooding the area with light from the outside, and Abigail squinted at the light through blurry eyes. 

Hannibal was in the doorway, a tray balanced easily in his arms. Miriam blinked awake from where they were curled on the floor, squinting at his figure in the doorway.

“Steak au Poivre.” He placed the tray in a slot in the cage. “Bon appétit.”

Abigail glared through the tears in her eyes.

“Are you not comfortable?”

“Fuck you,” Abigail spat at him.

He nodded, not looking in any way hurt by her rejection, “I will bring you some things tomorrow.” Hannibal left the way he came, briefly dusting off his trousers from where he had squatted down to speak with her.

“He must really like you if he’s offering us actual amenities now.” Miriam mused once he closed the door. she pulled the tray over to them, digging in with the flimsy utensils that he had given them. It must have been an added precaution against them trying to get out.

“Yeah, he likes me enough to cut my ear off, fake my death, and trap me in his murder basement, but at least we might get a blanket or something.”

“Maybe he’ll let us have beds. The whole dorm room setup.”

“It’s about the right size in here, isn’t it.” Abigail looked around. If they both stood with their arms spread out, they would just about hit the plexiglass walls.

Miriam laughed, sobering when she came to the realization that, “You’re not even old enough to go to college, are you.”

“I was meant to this year, but getting put in a psychiatric facility kinda put a damper on those plans.”

“Damn,” Miriam shook her head, “This situation just keeps getting more and more fucked up.”

“How old are you?”

“Well, I was 27 when he took me and put me in this cage, and two years have passed, wait, what month is it?”

“It’s November.”

“Then I am officially 30 years old,” She scrubbed at her eyes, “Fuck I’m old.”

“At least you don’t have to deal with today’s job market. There was a recession when you got put down here.”

“Ooh, foolproof plan for getting out of trying to find a job, just get kidnapped and stuck in a basement for years!”

Abigail laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. She sobered up quickly when she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Or tried to, but that ear was missing. 

“I never told you why he treats me nicely. He still thinks about me like his daughter, just a little bit, I think,” Abigail paused, thinking about what to say, “He put himself in place as my new father. He- he helped me when I was in a bad spot. I was grateful enough to agree to his plans, not to give him away to the FBI.”

“Don’t fault yourself. He’s spent how many years avoiding detection? Lecter’s put himself in the position where everyone would just dismiss any claims of him being a murderer,” Miriam snorted, “Even if I had overpowered him that night, I’d just get sent to the loony bin anyway.”

She looked at Abigail, “Sorry, is that offensive? Is psychiatric care the right term?”

“I don’t care, I think it’s less of a big deal when we’re trapped in a cannibal’s basement. At least I had my own room at my dad’s.”

“Don’t tell him that though,” Miriam said, gesturing up at the ceiling with her chin, “I think I’d rather have a roommate for this than stay it out alone again.”

Abigail nodded.

The lights pulsed on, illuminating both of them as well as the rest of the basement.

“Don’t take this to mean it’s daytime, he likes to do this randomly sometimes.”

“Is it weird if I tell you that you’re hot?” Abigail cocked her head to the side, squinting at Miriam.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s the Stockholm syndrome setting in?” Miriam joked, “I’m flattered, but really, I think it’s just the lack of options. He might have some nice cheekbones, but I don’t think rating me over a cannibalistic murderer is a weird thing.”

“Yeah. The fact that he killed my last girlfriend doesn’t help.”

“Damn,” Miriam paused, “Do you want to talk about her?”

“Her name was Marissa. She used to… We used to sneak out and drive around in her car late at night,” Abigail sighed at the memory, “We’d have picnics out on the lakeside…”

She talked until her voice grew hoarse, and Miriam took up the storytelling, talking about former friends and partners and all the people that she thought she wouldn’t miss until she was kidnapped. 

Eventually, they both ended up in a fitful sleep, neither knowing what the future would hold for them, but both secretly hoping for better. Anything else would be better, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Miriam Lass is bi and Abigail and Marissa were gfs, change my mind.
> 
> I feel weird that my first Hannibal fic wasn’t hannigram, but I’ve been on Hannibal tiktok too long and it’s peak loving women hours. This fic is dedicated @hannibal_eat_my_lungs and the 24 other ppl who liked my comment on their tiktok.
> 
> Maybe I'll write another AU where all of the women in the "I have been personally victimized by Hannibal Lecter" club survive and are WLW.


End file.
